


Meet the Parents

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Adorable, Confusion, Gen, Post-Canon, fluffy friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: Nick meets Judy's parents for the first time. It does not go like he thought it would.





	Meet the Parents

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really fit into any of my other stories, unless you want to imagine this happened before _Bad Boars_ or _A Quiet Chaos,_ but I had to take the bus home and wrote this to alleviate the boredom. You know how it goes. Keep your cars in shape, kids, or you, too, will be reduced to writing fan fiction on public transportation.
> 
> Tried a new point of view. Conclusion: first-person is awful. Kill it dead.

The slow, methodical tocking of the grandfather clock settles into my ears, the surrounding silence intensifying every swing of the pendulum. It's not a very big sound, considering the size and weight of rabbit-made  _anything,_ but all the same it's louder than it ought to be. I don't want to attribute this to my nervousness at meeting Judy's parents, but well, not doing so would be intellectually dishonest.

Yep. I'm terrified. If anyone bothered to ask, I'd probably say something cool and confident and downplay my...twitching...as  _absolute terror_ at the idea of getting skewered through the tail by a pitchfork. That would probably draw some laughs and mask the actual fear, but the only mammal who knows me well enough to know I'm not just a twitchy guy is the same mammal who would see through that in a second. 

"...and I swear I only kicked him a  _little,_ but he won't spar with me anymore," Judy says in the hallway. I smell her, obviously, and two - three - no, two more animals. Both bunnies, unless I miss my guess. The story Judy just told is a good one, and also a lesson in humility that nobody at the station will ever let Grizzoli forget, but my heart isn't pounding because of the humor. This is it. This is how the world ends. Okay, so I'm a little dramatic. It's basically true. What if Judy's parents don't like me? She's not the type to take anybody's opinion under advisement if she thinks it's irrelevant or unhelpful (see: becoming a police officer when the whole world said she couldn't, solving a seemingly-unsolvable case when her boss said she couldn't, blackmailing me when the law said she couldn't), but I don't want to be yet another reason she's so often exasperated with her parents. 

She's promised me it will all be fine. But this is the bunny who thinks it's a great idea to flush herself and her hapless civilian consultant down a toilet, so forgive me if I'm not impressed.

"Anyway!" The door opens all the way and hits the wall with a  _thud._ That's my partner, always enviably energetic. "Mom, Dad, this is Nick Wilde, my partner. Nick, this is Bonnie and Stu Hopps, my parents."

Judy stands just a bit taller than the two adult rabbits who trail into the room after her. I jump to my feet without thinking it through, ZPA etiquette lessons pushing me into something like routine, until I realize that I'm quite a bit bigger than they are and my pointy bits may not make the best impression  _without_ the added height. I slouch a bit and hold out my paw to Bonnie, wishing I'd remembered to Zoogle whether or not bunnies are matriarchal like foxes. Should I offer my paw to Stu instead? Does it matter to bunnies? I should have trimmed my claws instead of just filing them like I usually do. I open my mouth to wow everyone with my wit and charm, but what comes out is, "Um, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Carrots."

Great. Someone take me out back and murder me, because there's no coming back from that.

"Well, aren't you the sweetest thing," says Bonnie, gripping my paw with both of hers and shaking it firmly. Her smile is so wide it's giving  _me_ muzzle-ache. "My, you're so tall! We'll have to rearrange your room a little, Jude, we can't have him sleeping on a tiny bed. Oh, it's so wonderful to meet the fox who's keeping our daughter safe."

"Mom," Judy groans. She's got her face in her paws, ears dripping down her torso like melting chocolate. Both of which - ears and chocolate, that is - are things I would very much like to put into my mouth, and can't. 

"Get in here, Son," says Stu as soon as Bonnie steps away, and instead of going for my outstretched paw, he wraps his surprisingly strong arms around me and gives me a big squeeze. What am I supposed to do here? Hug him back? Both of my paws flap for a second before I set them, gingerly, on Stu's shoulders. I have no idea what's going on right now, but I think it's a good thing. Unless they do this to everybody they're planning to chop into pieces and feed to surrounding villagers.

That's ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous. Bunnies don't chop up foxes and feed them to their neighbors. That would make their neighbors _sick._ I can totally handle this. "It's nice to meet you both."

"Sit down, sit down," says Bonnie. I'm still not sure if bunnies are matriarchal, but it didn't seem like anybody was too offended when I paid her first respects, so I decide to listen to her instructions. It's her house, after all. I take the sofa I was sitting on before and Judy joins me, leaning into me like she usually does. Normally it doesn't phase me, but in front of her parents, I can't help wondering how other mammals see it. I mean, sure, any fool can see that my partner is delectable, but we're not together. We've only known each other for a year. Is it normal to be this close? Is it normal to be so physically affectionate? My mother would probably grab a shotgun and force Judy down to the courthouse if she knew how we lounge about in our sleepwear, and she's not even the most traditionalist vixen I know. I don't want to give her parents the wrong impression. 

Judy, seeming to sense my discomfort, pulls away and says, "Hey, Mom, why don't we go figure out a better way to accommodate our guest?"

Bonnie looks between me and Judy, frowns thoughtfully, and nods. "Sure, honey, let's go and dig out the sleepover mattress."

Judy surreptitiously squeezes my paw before the two of them bustle out quickly, leaving me alone with Stu. He gives me a wry grin. "Give them twenty minutes and we'll have an entire new wing of the house. Trust me, it's better just to leave them to it. Looks like it's just you and me now."

"Yeah," I reply uneasily. Is this the part where he sharpens a knife and threatens me or...something? I'm pretty sure all those romcoms are wrong, but you never know. 

"Listen, I'm not one for speeches," he says, which doesn't help the churning in my stomach at  _all,_ "but Jude's always been the independent type. Nobody could ever tell her what to do, and summer winds help the animal who tries to keep her from doing something to harm herself. So I have to say this, you see. For her sake."

I put on my Most Serious Face and ask, "What is it, Stu?"

"Just...look after her, will you? She trusts you. She values your opinion. That means a heck of a lot; she never did really care what Bon and I thought, even when we just wanted what was best for her. Knowing you're out there, standing next to her...having her back where we can't...it'd mean a lot to all of us here in Bunnyburrow."

The flood of relief makes me a little dizzy. Out of all the things Stu could've said, this isn't what I was expecting, but it's appreciated. "Of course I will. I mean, I can't guarantee she'll continue to value my opinion if it sounds like I'm trying to prevent her from doing what she wants, but I think we want the same things, and I'll always have her back. Unless, of course, I'm dead, in which case,  _sorry,_ no can do."

I can't tell if he's laughing or crying. Maybe both. That's better than kicking me with those strong bunny legs, though. "I think you'll get along just fine here, Nick. I'm guessing your sense of humor's dark enough to fit in with farm folks."

"That's...a relief," I say, confused. Why would farmers be more inclined to dark humor? Well, it's not an easy life, and bunnies aren't exactly the biggest animals in the world. There's probably a lot of death in the industry, especially with large families. No wonder Judy can stare death in the face; she grew up doing it. "You know, I was worried you would get the wrong idea. And threaten me, as in,  _if you hurt my daughter I'll stab you_ or something."

This time, I know it's a laugh. "Oh, trust me, Son, I know when a kit of mine is involved with somebody, but let me give you some advice: I wouldn't need to threaten you anyway. If you hurt my daughter, she'll toss you out the window, and you'd better pray to whatever god you believe in that you're close enough to the ground to bounce."

That thought is so incredibly accurate that I can't help but laugh too. If this is what the rest of Judy's family is like, then maybe Stu's right: I can get along just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I might be one of the only writers in this fandom who _hates_ the "Judy's parents somehow turn out even more bigoted than they were at the start of the movie" thing. You'd think they'd be overjoyed to meet their daughter's partner, who is bigger, pointier, and more familiar with the city. But what do I know? I would rather eat my own uterus than have children. Now have fun trying to sleep with _that_ image in your head.


End file.
